ng, James. I thought, Mr. Secretary, you knew Mr.
Logan. Permit me to add agreeably to your acquaintance." The two
gentlemen bowed, and Wynne added: "By the way, do you chance to know,
Mr. Secretary, that Mr. Logan is hereditary librarian of the Loganian
Library, and every Logan in turn if he pleases--our only inherited
title."

"Not a very alarming title," said the Quaker gentleman, demurely.

"We can stand that much," said Jefferson, smiling as he turned to
Madame de Courval, while her son, a little aside, waited for the list
and surveyed with interest the Quakers, the statesman, and the merchant
who seemed so friendly.

At this moment came forward a woman of some forty years; rose-red her
cheeks within the Quaker bonnet, and below all was sober gray, with a
slight, pearl-colored silk shawl over her shoulders.

"Good morning, Friend Wynne. Excuse me, Friend Jefferson," she said.
"May I be allowed a moment of thy time, James Logan?" The gentlemen drew
back. She turned to the vicomtesse. "Thou wilt permit me. I must for
home shortly. James Logan, there is a book William Bingham has praised
to my daughter. I would first know if it be fitting for her to read. It
is called, I believe, 'Thomas Jones.'"

Mr. Jefferson's brow rose a little, the hazel eyes confessed some
merriment, and a faint smile went over the face of Hugh Wynne as Logan
said: "I cannot recommend it to thee, Mary Swanwick."

"Thank thee," she said simply. "There is too much reading of vain books
among Friends. I fear I am sometimes a sinner myself; but thy aunt,
Mistress Gainor, Hugh, laughs at me, and spoils the girl with books--too
many for her good, I fear."

"Ah, she taught me worse wickedness than books when I was young," said
Wynne; "but your girl is less easy to lead astray. Oh, a word, Mary,"
and he lowered his voice. "Here are two French people I want you to take
into your house."

"If it is thy wish, Hugh; but although there is room and to spare, we
live, of need, very simply, as thou knowest."

"That is not thy Uncle Langstroth's fault or mine."

"Yes, yes. Thou must know how wilful I am. But Friend Schmidt is only
too generous, and we have what contents me, and should content Margaret,
if it were not for the vain worldliness Gainor Wynne puts into the
child's head. Will they like Friend Schmidt?"

"He will like them, Mary Swanwick. You are a fair French scholar
yourself. Perhaps they may teach you--they are pleasant people." He,
to